


Beauty And The Beast

by Madeira_Darling



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Crossdressing, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Smut, Transformation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-07 02:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5440619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madeira_Darling/pseuds/Madeira_Darling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being with Sebastian has triggered all of Hancock's insecurities about his appearance.  This institute offers a solution, but is the fallout worth it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nobody Likes You When You're Dead

Skin like porcelain, hair like black silk brushing down that shapely back, high cheekbones, lips full and lusciously rosey.  He’d never seen anyone as perfectly angelically beautiful as his lover in all his years in the wasteland.  He was perfect, and not just in terms of being a healthy, ideally preserved specimen of prewar humanity. but everything about him,  the way he moved, that smooth voice with its sexy little accent and those stunningly vivid blue eyes.

 

How the fuck had he ended up with this… exquisite creature, whose beautiful long fingered hands caressed him like he wasn’t a mass of ugly twisted scar tissue?  They made a strange pair, a regular beauty and the beast.  Except he hadn’t turned into a handsome prince at the end.  His ugliness had never gotten to him before he’d fallen for Sebastian, but being in the presence of this vision made him feel the loss of his looks with a keenness he’d never thought he’d experience.  It wasn’t as if he’d never had a moment of vanity before, before becoming a ghoul he’d taken some trouble with his appearance, he’d been pretty, with dark hair and grey eyes, he remembered a sort of lithe feral grace, like a tom cat on the prowl, or at least that’s what he thought.  It had been so many years and so many highs ago he couldn’t be sure, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t dress well now even if he didn’t have a nose.

 

Why did it bother him now?  It wasn’t as if Sebastian made an issue of it.  He never brought it up.  Once he’d complimented his eyes and his own expression had made sure the vault dweller never mentioned his appearance again.  He sighed, well what was done was done, and there was no going back.  Even if he occasionally joked about wanting his lover to be like him, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to bare seeing it.  He wondered if that made him a bad boyfriend, caring more about that flawless perfumed skin than about his life span or safety…but he couldn’t help it, to wreck a face like that would have been a sin against nature in a world where too many sins against nature had already been committed.

 

Sebastian was still asleep, inky hair against clean white sheets.  He’d never figured out how he managed to get their place so nice, all clean smelling and sun shining in through real glass windows.  How the hell he’d pulled that one off Hancock had not idea, Codsworth was something of a miracle worker though.  He still wasn’t sure if the robot liked him, but it was morning… well morning for them so afternoon for everybody else, time to get up and make what passed for coffee in this fucked up world.  Normally he would have supplemented that with a dose or two of jet, it wasn’t as if Sebastian never indulged (and even with the chems he looked like that, sweet Christ) but today he wasn’t in the mood.

 

It was downstairs, in the little kitchen with its camp stove and battered fridge he found the courser like one of those perverse monkey’s paw versions of a wish come true.  He knew about Shaun, they even occasionally ran missions for the institute when they thought it wouldn’t make a mess of things, but it was still unsettling to see one of the damn things sitting at their incongruously fancy kitchen table  (Sebastian always did like things pretty, which made him all the more miserably insecure).

 

“Based on our surveillance, you’ve been avoiding reflective surfaces and your facial expressions indicate self doubt and emotional discomfort,” said the Courser in its unsettling monotone, “based on existing data the institute has extrapolated that you are insecure about your appearance around subject Alpha.  I have been sent to offer you a potential solution to your problem.”  Hancock raised an eyebrow.

 

“Out of the goodness of your metallic little hearts?” he enquired, reaching for the coffee pot.

 

“Father is very concerned about subject Alpha’s emotional state, and we have… certain interests in the results.”

 

“So you wanna use me as a lab rat?” asked the ghoul as he ground… well best not to think about that, and boiled filtered water.  Didn’t want that pretty thing upstairs getting radiation poisoning.

 

“That would be a way to put it,” said the courser, an imposing thing with a shaved head and the ubiquitous sunglasses,

 

“We have discovered an experimental serum that returns ghouls to human appearance, while leaving the beneficial aspects of their state intact, the longer lifespan, and resistance to radiation all remain, while appearing perfectly human.”

 

Hancock didn’t want to think about who they’d tested it on before him.  They’d probably rounded up some poor confused ferals… he hoped it hadn’t been cruel.  He poured boiling water into the french press and thought about it.  He hated himself for wanting to say yes.  He really did, but the thought of being able to look in a mirror without cringing felt… incredibly hard to resist. He nodded.  

 

“Alright,” he said.  Anniversary was coming up anyway, maybe it'd make for a nice surprise .

 

The courser nodded.  “The serum will be left in a safe location for you, it has to be injected into a vein, I trust you’re familiar with the technique.”

 

Hancock gave him a half smile.  “Institute programmed in a sense of humor for your run, huh?”

 

The courser gave him a blank look and Hancock sighed.  He knew he was going to do it.

 

 


	2. Ghoul's Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hancock uses the serum and receives a blow job

The waiting was a torment, part of him desperately wanted to tell Sebastian what had happened, but he couldn’t make himself say it.  He was too ashamed of his own vanity, of how easily he’d been compromised and he already knew what the other man would say, all that “I love you just the way you are” crap, which Hancock believed completely and found completely unsatisfactory.   He knew he was charming, a great lay, but he wanted Sebastian to look at him with the same stunned awe he felt.  He wanted to make his mouth go dry, or at least not have his looks be an obstacle wit and personality had overcome.  He wasn’t sure if he was relieved when he found the syringe and instructions in his coat pocket one morning, he almost considered throwing them away in disgust, but somehow he couldn’t.  He locked the bathroom door (another extravagance in an out of the way settlement like this, but Sebastian liked his creature comforts), tied up as per the instructions and shoved the syringe into a vein.  He wondered how long this stuff’d take, gradual or instantaneous?  What would he look like?  Would Sebastian even like it?  Why couldn't he give him the benefit of the doubt re: his appearance?  How the fuck was he going to explain this?

 

He didn’t have to wonder for long, he felt… a sort of lurching shift and sunk to the floor, panting as the room spun.   When he came to, his head hurt and Sebastian was pounding on the door.  

 

“Alright, alright keep your shirt on,” he grumbled, scrambling to his feet.  

 

“You scared the hell out of me!  What were you taking, and why weren’t you sharing?” his lover demanded.

 

“Something new… wouldn’t work for you,” he said, making it over to the mirror to examine himself.  His vision was blurry for a moment, and then he came into focus.  Long lashed stormy grey eyes blinked back at him from a face covered in smooth, golden tanned skin, human, gorgeous.  Black hair fell a little past his shoulders, shaggy and rakish.  He gave a low whistle.  “Well goddamn,” he said, admiring the handsome motherfucker in the mirror, smoothing hair out of his face, and giving himself a cheeky grin, showing flawless white teeth…  this was some impressive shit.  For the moment guilt and worry ebbed away in a rush of pride.  He was fucking hot.

 

“What?  You sound weird, Hancock what the fuck going on?” Sebastian called from outside the bathroom as Hancock rummaged to find his lover’s eyeliner, emphasizing the shape of his eyes, fussing with his hair, preening.  He wanted Sebastian’s first sight of the new improved… or technically he supposed original version of him to be perfect. He still wore his beloved red frock coat, which suited his new appearance just fine, all piratical decadent beauty.  

 

“This new shit… it has some interesting effects,” he said, going to the door “I look… kinda different.”

 

“Well now I know you haven't been replaced with a synth, the institute wouldn’t fuck that up,” said his lover, and he smiled.  He did love that wry wit.

 

“Not like that, doll,” he said opening the door.  Sebastian had been about to say more, but stopped, mouth half open, staring.  “Baby is that… are you, good christ,” he said, falling back into a nearby chair.

 

Hancock grinned and Sebastian instantly knew it really was him.  He stared.  He’d never minded.  He’d fallen for a ghoul and wanting him to be anything but what he was had never crossed his mind, but he couldn’t deny that the sight of his lover like this, with that mane of dark hair, framing that face that was at once familiar and strange, the same high cheekbones, and strong jaw, but with smooth, supple skin, long lashes and a roman nose giving that beloved countenance an unfamiliar aspect sent a rush of heat through him.  There was also the realization that if whatever his lover had been doing had restored his face that other missing pieces would also likely be in their proper places.  Hancock had never complained about his appearance (although Sebastian knew he was sensitive about it) he did make occasional bitter comments about his disintegrating mess of a cock.  Even with their relationship having continued for nearly a year he’d never actually seen the ghoul completely undressed.  He prefered to be touched through clothes, wouldn’t allow more than the barest brush of the lips when they kissed.  Sebastian had often wondered if it would have been easier if he’d been a ghoul too.

 

The ghoul stalked gracefully over to the chair, and tilted Sebastian’s chin up, their blue eyes meeting grey.

 

“Hey,” purred the distinctly less than ghoulish ghoul, holding out a hand and bringing Sebastian to his feet.  The blue eyed man had a million questions, but when he felt that warm soft mouth against his own, thoughts took a back seat to desire, and he brushed fingers through shaggy dark hair, pulling the other man close, arms around his neck as Hancock fisted a hand in Sebastian’s glossy mane and returned the kiss with a passion the vault dweller had never felt from him.  He’d always put up walls before, but now the only wall involved was the wall Hancock was shoving him against, hands wandering over the planes of his body with the intensity of long deprivation.  

 

“You have no idea the fucking things I’ve wanted to do to you,” growled Hancock against that pale throat, as Sebastian melted, head tilted back, nails dragging up that leanly muscled back.  

 

“You never let me find out,” breathed the vault dweller, grinding his hips against Hancock’s.  He could feel him hard, and… fucking big pressing into him.

 

“Was never in the mood,” replied Hancock with a sly smile, “sides I was missing some of the necessary parts.”

 

Sebastian gave him a wicked smirk in response and grabbed him by the wrist, blue eyes flashing with something wild.

 

“Well then why don’t you tell me now,” purred the vault dweller.

 

 If he hadn’t been utterly lost in the moment he might have been worried about Hancock seeing his enthusiasm as a betrayal, but with Hancock acting like that… frankly his brain wasn’t working quite right.

 

The ghoul smirked, accepting the challenge and twisted out of his grip and pinned him to the wall, reaching down to undo the fly on Sebastian’s tight leather trousers.  

 

“How about I just show you, babe?” replied the grey eyed man. quirking a shapely eyebrow.  This was how Sebastian had always imagined him in bed, not the appearance, but the confidence, the fire… not that his new look didn’t help, he was undeniably hotter than hell.

 

A smooth hand pulled him out of his trousers with the consummate skill Sebastian had always appreciated… he’d always been good with his hands, even as a ghoul their long fingered slender grace had been obvious, and he stroked him.

 

“Like what you see?” teased Hancock, and Sebastian gave him a withering “duh, obviously” sort of look, before his ability to think clearly ebbed away again as hot knowing lips brushed over the most sensitive places on his throat.  The vault dweller slid gracefully to his knees, when Hancock gave him a hopeful nudge, yanking down the ghoul’s trousers with desperate passion, noting with pleasure there was nothing else between him and his lover’s cock, which was big and hard and… pierced, another wave of need washed over him, and he slid plush painted lips slid down the ex-mayor’s cock with consummate skill.  A tanned hand fisted in jet black hair. gathering soft locks into a tail so he could thrust into that hot wet mouth.

 

“You’re fucking good at that,” gasped Hancock, as Sebastian raked nails down his inner thighs, which made the vault dweller flick that electric blue gaze upwards, the smirk obvious in his eyes for a moment, before Hancock gave his hair a rough yank, and his expression turned again to blank animal need, it wasn’t long before Hancock had to pull him back, the heat coursing through him, pooling at the apex of his thighs was too much, he was going to come if he kept going and he wasn’t ready for that just yet.  He still needed to have Sebastian every which way, to do all the things he’d been holding back on, to let Sebastian do all the things he’d been too self loathing to agree to.  He was aching to make up for lost time.

 

 


	3. Your Love Is My Drug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is fucking and an anniversary gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my readers, I hope you're enjoying yourselves, I promise there will be a plot eventually

Sebastian looked up.  “Yeah, love?” he purred, hands running up and down graceful toned thighs.

 

“I want to bend you over and have you here and now, until you’re panting and writhing and screaming my fucking name,.” Hancock rasped, voice rough with lust… sounding funnily enough more like his old self.  Sebastian had always liked that bit, the gravelly voice, to him it made him sound like he was in the throes of passion even if he was just reading a lunch menu, which was not to say that he didn’t appreciate hearing this new smooth voice roughen as he descended into desire.

 

“and then maybe I want you to do the same to me,” added the ghoul, looking almost shy.  He’d never been much of a bottom, but something about always elegant, always perfectly coiffed Sebastian who ran around the wasteland in a fucking evening gown dispatching raiders and radscorpions with ease made him want it all, every experience every which way he could get it.

 

Sebastian gave him a smile like the cat that got the canary.  “I think that can be arranged,” he said, moving gracefully to his feet.  Hancock had already grabbed the lube from its place in the bathroom, a brew made from aloe vera and certain oils, up until now it had just been used for toys and hand jobs, but now he pressed himself up against Sebastian, kissing him long and deep as he tugged at those skin tight trousers.  Sebastian kissed back before pulling gracefully away.  Hancock really couldn’t imagine him as a soldier, a fighter yes, but one of those serious, macho, yes sir no sir three bags full sir types, not in a million years, but that didn’t matter.  She’s My Witch by Kip Tyler, a man dead more than three centuries poured from the radio, and Sebastian moved his slim hips in time to the slow sultry beat as he stripped, pulling off that tight t-shirt held together with safety pins, and oh so slowly peeling off his pants, naked but for a pair of heels, he sauntered over, tugging Hancock to the sofa, and sitting him down, straddling him, grinding up against him, tossing his hair and moving to the carnal sound of good old fashioned rock n’ roll, before taking Hancock’s hand and the lube bottle, slicking up three fingers, and guiding them to his entrance.  The ghoul grinned, a steely arm sliding around Sebastian’s slim waist, as he slid a finger inside him.  Christ but he was hot and tight and… god but he wanted him.  The vault dweller gasped, squirmed, grinding his rather impressively sized erection against the ghoul, desperate for contact.

 

Hancock grinned.

 

“That’s right, angel, like my fingers in you?” he purred, “bet you’ll like my cock even better.”

 

Sebastian let out an animalistic groan, a feral almost dangerous light shining in his eyes.  

 

“Fuck yes, you know I do,” he breathed against Hancock’s ear, before nipping and tugging at the beringed lobe, tugging at dark hair.  Hancock couldn’t help loving that rapturous look on Sebastian’s exquisite face, eyes lust dark and heavy lidded, lips smirking, kiss reddened and oh so slightly parted.  He was lust incarnate and Hancock needed to be inside him, needed to feel their bodies intimately, utterly connected.  His cock twitched, Sebastian groaned again.  This was fire, hotter than hell and all consuming.  Sebastian gazed into the ghoul’s grey eyes. He was beautiful and wild, with that silky hair loose around his face and that lush mouth.  When they kissed he was hungry, demanding, a starving man at a feast.  He could only imagine what his lover had been going through all these months, all that self denial because of a little scar tissue.  It wasn’t as if he’d never seen worse.  He’d been a soldier, had seen men mangled far beyond recognition, and Hancock in his way had still been handsome, even without a nose and his skin a wreck, he’d had good bone structure and those dark expressive eyes, but he couldn’t deny seeing what he’d looked like before, he sort of got the insecurity.  Hancock had been beautiful, an absolute stone cold fox, all flawless tawny skin, long lashes and well… lovely, and if you’d gotten used to looking like that, well becoming a ghoul might have felt like a disaster, and having a dick that wasn’t all there and didn’t quite work… well he could only imagine it didn’t help.

 

The ghoul slid another finger inside him, curling them to brush his core.  Sebastian let out a whine of pure ecstasy.  This was pure perfect pleasure, fingers moving to undo the buttons on Hancock’s shirt, noticing what he’d thought was skin discoloration in his lover’s previous state had actually been tattoos, richly colored and beautifully inked.  He traced the lines of a lush red rose before Hancock caught him by the hair with his free hand and pulled him into a kiss, fingers spreading inside his lover.  He swore birds sang and flowers bloomed in that moment, that he’d never felt anything, anything  to compare to him.  He’d done it all, mentats, psychojet, whatever you could think of he’d tried it, but nothing compared to this, and then Hancock reached for a little pill box concealed in some inner pocket of his coat.

 

“These are very rare, I’ve been savin’ em for a special occasion,” he said with a grin, “it’s a pre-war drug called Miss Molly.  You heard of it?”

 

Sebastian eyed the four little pills.  Oh, he knew about Miss Molly, he and Miss Molly had been good friends before Shaun, before Nora, before he’d settled himself as best he could into the role of husband and father, even then he’d never stopped looking like what he was, wild.  Soldier was really just the cover story.  He’d tried… well he hated to think about that because he’d failed when failure was not an option, it had been stressful and in his time off… well he’d liked to unwind.  He’d danced till dawn fueled by purples and reds.  He’d chased the dragon, and known crystalline amphetamine highs and Kublai Khan opium dreams.  He’d met Miss Molly in more than a few nightclub bathrooms, and he remembered the sex as cosmic, decked with stars, pleasure and pounding beat,

 

He popped a pill, and tilted back his head, eyes closing for a moment.  Hancock swallowed his own in turn, adding a third finger, as he ran a hand up Sebastian’s flank.  He loved the sight of him, the playing card symbols inked down each hip bone, that taut flat stomach.  He was beautiful. and he loved feeling them skin on skin, the level of sensation was like nothing the ghoul had felt in decades, nerves he’d forgotten what it was like having alight with bliss.  It wasn’t as if he’d never fucked as a ghoul, other ghouls, the occasional human who was “into that” but he’d always hated being someone’s fetish, made him fucking uncomfortable, but sex, like jet was muted for ghouls, the intensity of desire washing over him now, the intensity of sensation washed over him like a tidal wave, every touch electric and the drug was only going to make it more intense.

 

The taste of the other man’s lips, sweet and sinful and sticky with gloss.  In a wasteland where people had stopped combing their hair, his immaculate grooming was a breath of fresh air.  He tasted like dark heaven, like all the very best things in their fucked up world and he pulled him against him, needing to be closer, to feel more, to have him in every sense of the word.   Now they felt like meant to be in a way he hadn’t let himself believe in before, here was the fairytale ending he’d wanted.  Okay so it was dirtier than the bowdlerized versions in most of those old pre-war books, but this was Hancock after all, and for him a fairy tale ending involved seeing his true love writhing desperately, quite possibly begging for his touch.

 

He shifted, nudging a dazed Sebastian to his knees, so he could give his cock a long teasing lick with that clever pink tongue.  “You should get that pierced too, babe,” purred the raven haired man, giving a shallow thrust or two before Hancock pulled back and flipped them around.  He’d been strong enough as a ghoul that it had been easy to forget how the condition effected strength, now apparently he could pick up all six foot four inches of the (admittedly slender) Sebastian, turn him round, and bend him forcibly over the sofa without so much as a grunt of effort.  The vault dweller yelped in surprise, still grinding instinctively back against that knowing hand.  He was coming undone, entire body alight with the prospect of their coupling, and then those slim digits were gone, and Hancock spread him open and sheathed himself in one quick movement.

 

“Look at you, General of the Minutemen, Brotherhood of Steel Paladin, Wasteland legend writhing on my cock, fucking love that don’t you?” he purred into the other man’s ear, “do I make your cock drip, baby?” he added, a hand moving to grip Sebastian’s big cock.

 

“God you’re so hard for me,” said the ghoul, which sent a throb of desire through him.  Why was it that every time he’d gotten his lover hard before this had felt… somehow invalid, because he’d been a ghoul, and sexy as was, charming and charismatic as he was, he’d wanted Sebastian to look at him and see sex on legs, not a shambling mess of decay… and to be fair, he’d ached to be able to do this, to fuck him, no goddamn strap on dick over clothing so he wouldn’t have to show what he was ashamed of.  He’d wanted skin on skin, body pressed against body, and now he had it, had him, and he was hot and he was tight and christ if it didn’t take every ounce of self control he’d been storing up not holding himself back from anything in life to stop himself from coming right then and there, just hearing Sebastian’s breath get ragged, hearing that silky voice rough with desire, needy.

 

“Fuck, goddamnit, Hancock, fucking fuck me or I swear to god I will…” and he trailed off the moment Hancock grabbed his hips and started to move.

 

“God you’d look hot in a pair of handcuffs, one of those goddamn distracting little dresses you wear shoved up to your waist,” said the ghoul, taking in every marvelous detail of the scene, that normally flawlessly styled hair a mess, lipstick smeared, leanly muscled back arching.

 

The vault dweller growled, arched, rocked his hips.  He was going to fuck Hancock senseless the first chance he got, but for now he’d enjoy the ride, and what a fucking ride.  Hancock’s movements were as smooth, graceful and brutal as a trained martial artist.  He took him, claimed him, grabbed him by the hair.

 

The grey eyed man dug nails into his lover’s haunches, heat building in both of them.  He needed more, needed Sebastian with every fiber of his being.  This was furious, wild animalistic love, all that pent up desire exploding out into this mad violent passion they shared.  Sebastian bucked, growling and cursing, reaching back to tug his lover’s hair, a wordless demand for more.  The drugs had kicked in, and the world was red and gold and he needed this.  He struggled, pulled away, leaving Hancock looking bereft before he grabbed his hand, yanking him down onto the thick hide rug on the floor.

 

“I want to see you,” he explained, voice breathy, “Christ Hancock.”

 

He’d said it before during what had passed for sex between them, but never with this urgency.  Hancock took no time in fulfilling the request, grabbing him and pulling his lover’s knees over his shoulders, he slid back into him, grey eyes meeting blue, hands somehow still smooth despite all that they did reached to touch his face, he turned to kiss one beloved palm.  

 

“Goddamn, look at you,” groaned Hancock, staring at a lust dazed Sebastian, dark hair spreading beneath him, glossy and black as prewar raven’s wing.  

 

“Goddamn, look at you,” replied beauty incarnate beneath him, touching supple skin, fingers weaving in dark hair. God it was good to feel sexy, to feel desired and desirable, to not flinch when he was touched.  He kissed him, stroked him in time with his thrusts.  He was achingly close by now, the tight heat surrounding him, the breathy groans of his lover, and the look of pure adoration, of pure desire in those blue eyes was quickly pushing him over the brink of reason.

 

Pleasure like a bomb blast, pleasure like a free fall, pleasure like flying, they came together, two voices crying out in ecstasy, bodies intertwined.  The ghoul collapsed atop his lover, grinning and brushing hair from his eyes.

 

“Jesus,” said the ghoul, still panting.

 

“My god,” said Sebastian wrapping arms round his companion.

 

“I forgot how good that was,” said Hancock with a lazy smile.

 

“Hopefully we have plenty of time to remind you,” replied Sebastian, raising Hancock’s hand to his lips, and kissing his knuckles “and next time it’s my turn to top.”

 

“Should do, this stuff’s supposed to be permanent, and we’ll see.”

 

“I have so many questions… why did you do it?” asked Sebastian, suddenly remembering his worries about having made his lover self conscious.

 

“Vanity, maybe a little jealous of how damned pretty you are, and I was sick of the joint pain and trying to keep all those goddamn wrinkles clean, pretty much had to go over my face with a toothbrush to get the dust out,” joked the ghoul “sides, I get to keep the rad resistance and extended lifespan, so I figured…”

 

“Where did you get it?” asked Sebastian, if there were a drug like that out there, he wanted it distributed to settlers, thinking instantly of the potential benefit to so many wastelanders, outcast and sick with long radiation poisoning.

 

Hancock really wished he could tell him, but he knew that Sebastian would never forgive him for agreeing to something so dangerous without consulting him, for putting them in such debt to the institute, who they both knew couldn’t be trusted.

 

“Scientist, institute dude, big and green or he used to be, what’s his name?  He said it was experimental,”  replied Hancock knowing the good doc would back him on it if asked “I thought it’d be a nice anniversary gift for you, I told you I didn’t want to put you through waking up to that ugly mug for the rest of your life… now you can wake up to this ugly mug instead,” he added with a smile that said he knew perfectly well he was damned fine looking.

 

“That was dangerous!” protested the vault dweller before softening, caressing Hancock’s cheek “and besides, I would have settled for a mirelurk cake and some new kitchen knives, these won’t even cut bloatfly without squashing it.”

 

Hancock breathed an internal sigh of relief.  He’d successfully avoided the subject.

 

“Well, I guess I won’t be needing this then,” he said, pulling a wrapped (wrapping paper being useless for most survival applications was still easy enough to come by in the commonwealth.) gift box, small… jewelry sized.  Sebastian opened it carefully, revealing a long slim velvet box, inside was the most stunning sapphire necklace he’d ever seen, each tear drop cut vivid blue stone was framed with brilliant white diamonds.  He gasped.

 

“Where the hell did you get this?” asked the vault dweller, utterly stunned.

 

“Old jewelry factory out near Providence,” he said, “it matches your eyes.”

  
“Goddamnit, stop doing that or I’m going to melt,” replied Sebastian with an affectionate shove, before meeting his gaze again “it’s beautiful… thank you.  I have a present for you too, but it has to wait for after dinner.” 


	4. Break The Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which dinner is eaten, Hancock receives a gift, and Sebastian opens up a little about his past.

Dinner was a brahmin roast with vegetables prepared to perfection by Codsworth, with his famous chocolate mousse for dessert (god only knew how he’d pulled that one off).  The setting was perfect as well, from the snow white tablecloth, the best (if mismatched) china set for two, the salvaged silver returned to a gleaming shine by the industrious robot.

 

Sebastian had lit candles for romance rather than out of necessity, bathed even more fastidiously than he usually did, done his hair, painted his face, and slid into pumps and a tight little black dress that displayed long shapely legs, and applied a spritz of Shalimar to his throat and wrists.  He had even opened one of the good prewar bottles of wine, and it was breathing on the counter.  He’d also paid a truly unjustifiable number of caps for Hancock’s present, but he’d wanted tonight to be perfect.  He wanted to show the ex-mayor how much he truly did value him, how much he wanted him there, and how their weird, wild, utterly unconventional life was the life he wanted more than anything.  He had no desire to be normal, and no idea what that would even mean in this world, and their decadent bohemian existence suited him down to the ground.  

Hancock had also taken time with his appearance, brushing his hair until it fell in glossy dark waves framing that handsome hawkish face, touching up eyeliner and adding a hint of gloss on the full lips, and changing into the fresh frock coat and breeches Sebastian had had made for him, deciding to wear just the waistcoat and skip the shirt in favor of a plethora of necklaces on that broad, bare chest, lending a hint of sin to the historic costume.  He shot his reflection a smirk in the mirror before heading downstairs, following the scent of delicious cooking food.  The table with its candles and fresh flowers was a sight to behold, and his lover, as beautiful as ever with his long dark hair perfectly arranged, and his gift sparkling on his pale throat was… well there weren’t words for what he felt.  He took that beautiful, manicured hand and raised it to his lips.  

 

“Goddamn, is this all for me?” purred the ghoul huskily, looking more at Sebastian than at the spread.

 

“All of it,” replied the Englishman with a smirk, moving closer to his lover.

 

Hancock smirked.  “Smells delicious,” he replied, inhaling the leather-vanilla scent of Sebastian’s throat.

 

“Fresh,” scolded the vault dweller, giving Hancock a playful smack, “anyway it would be ashame to let dinner get cold.”

 

“Would it really, though?” asked the ghoul, running a thumb over Sebastian’s plump painted lower lip.

 

“Yes, and it would put Codsworth in a mood and you know how impossible he is when he’s in a mood,” said Sebastian, brushing his fingertips lightly over the other man’s crotch, “besides,” he purred, “I want you to open your present.”

 

Hancock pouted, slightly disappointed.  “And here I was hoping you were my present.”

 

Sebastian rolled his eyes.

 

“Stop being charming or we  _ will  _ miss dinner,” he purred, and Hancock perhaps just a touch reluctantly agreed, and the two sat down.  For a druggy from Goodneighbor Hancock had surprisingly delicate table manners.  He ate neatly, and sipped gracefully from his wine glass.  Watching him always made Sebastian smile, and seeing him now with that smudgy dark eye makeup and bare chest was no exception.

 

He looked up and caught the Englishman staring.

 

“What’re you staring at, babe?” he asked, quirking a shapely eyebrow.

 

“You,” replied Sebastian,

 

“I s’pose I am worth staring at now,” said the ghoul with a smirk, striking a pose for a moment before turning to meet the other man’s gaze, “you’re kinda worth looking at yourself, dollface.”  

 

Sebastian gave him a vulpine smile from across the table.  “Oh I know, but please don’t constrain yourself to merely looking at me, darling,” he purred.

 

Dinner was finished rather quickly after that.  Once it was time for dessert, Sebastian retrieved a large box wrapped in blue and gold paper festooned with golden ribbon, and handed it to his lover who took it with a raised eyebrow, undoing the ribbon and paper with gentle care, and opening the gift box almost reverently as Sebastian watched in anticipation.  He unfolded the tissue paper and gasped.

 

“Holy hell, baby, I didn’t think there were any of these left…” he said staring at the gleaming Gibson Les Paul, with its sparkling gold finish “how the fuck did you get your hands on it?”

 

“I got it from a music store in Boston, picked up some parts from traders and had Sturges fix it up,” he said with a modest smile, “figured it was an upgrade.”

 

“Damned right it is,” said Hancock, caressing the smooth neck, “she’s a beauty.”

 

He plugged into a homemade amp, a gift from the Atom Cats after helping them deal with some raiders, and strummed, already perfectly tuned.  

 

The ghoul gave Sebastian a curious look. “I didn’t know you could play.”

 

Sebastian smiled his enigmatic feline smile.  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, love.”

 

“Oh?” asked the ghoul with a glint of interest in his eye, “like what?”

 

Sebastian traced circles on the table with a fingertip and tilted his head to the side.  There was rather a lot, who he’d been, what he’d done… all those lies, the irony of how the war might very well have saved his life.  “Oh all sorts of things, how I was nearly executed as a traitor during one of the anti-communist witch hunts, how I got out of it because I knew too much about a certain general’s sex life... “ he said with a laugh at the memory “how when I was growing up I wanted to be a rockstar, how in a fucked up way, I like this world better than the one before, because this one isn’t all pastel colors and short back and sides to hide the barbarism… pre-war life was brutal too, we just kept it out of sight with proxy wars and told ourselves feasting while others starved left our hands clean… and now… there’s no big bad, not like the overarching inescapable all American rah rah jingoist bullshit that there was then… the good guys maybe have a chance, maybe we can learn something, build a society that was better than the one before, and I know the loss of life is unjustifiable… but really, I’d rather be here.”  It all came out in a torrent, although still there was more.  Keeping secrets had become a habit for him back then, during the war, during his ILCO days.  There was no one left except maybe for Liberty Prime who cared, but here he was with all his old cloak and dagger instincts, keeping ancient irrelevant history under lock and key, but this was a start.  Hancock leaned in to stroke his cheek, to press a kiss to those plush lips.  Neither of them was exactly an open book, both of them regardless of beauty and flamboyant dress sense, were hard men, used not to saying more than needed to be said, and frankly it was nice to be allowed a glimpse inside his lover’s head.  He couldn’t help but be charmed by what he saw.

 

The ghoul met his eyes.  “Christ, you’re so decent and idealistic and all that crap, but it’s okay, so am I kinda,” he said with a wry smile, and Sebastian smiled back as he plucked out the opening notes to Fashion by Hanoi Rocks.  “You know, I probably shouldn’t find that sexy, but I do, babe,” he added, a gleam in his mist grey eyes “c’mere, I wanna get weird.”

  
“You don’t even know how weird I get, love,” retorted the vault dweller, meeting his gaze again, this time with a hint of something half challenge, half invitation in his gaze. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate your support and wonderful comments, seeing my reader's enthusiasm is genuinely what keeps me writing, so thank you. <3


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